


I Need You So Much Closer

by newisalwaysbetter



Category: Timeless (TV 2016)
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, F/M, Falling In Love, Feelings, Fluff and Angst, Flynn Feelings, Happy Ending, Kissing, Love Confessions, POV Flynn, Sharing a Bed, cuteness, they make each other coffee
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-29
Updated: 2019-03-29
Packaged: 2019-12-26 12:12:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18282182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/newisalwaysbetter/pseuds/newisalwaysbetter
Summary: Flynn is about to go to sleep, as he does late, when the knock comes on his door.Aside from that time after the Delta Blues mission, Lucy hasn’t come to visit him at night, and no matter how much Flynn wishes she would, he knows better than to expect it. So when he finds Lucy standing outside his door, Flynn swallows down his delight; he doesn’t want to scare her off, because it’s not about him. She’s clearly come for support, and he wants to give it to her.(He wants to give her everything.)(S2/3 soft garcy bed sharing, with Feelings and an extra dose of Flynn Meta.)





	I Need You So Much Closer

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: "64, Garcy? ("It's two sugars, right?") And look, it is totally whatever your brain comes up with, no pressure either way, but I would lovelovelove it if Lucy was the one to say it. 💖"
> 
> As always, prompts remain open at to-hell-with-oblivion on tumblr :) if you like this, come send me something to write!

Flynn is about to go to sleep, as he does late, when the knock comes on his door.

Aside from that time after the Delta Blues mission, Lucy hasn’t come to visit him at night, and no matter how much Flynn wishes she would, he knows better than to expect it. So when he finds Lucy standing outside his door, Flynn swallows down his delight; he doesn’t want to scare her off, because it’s not about him. She’s clearly come for support, and he wants to give it to her.

(He wants to give her  _everything_.)

He’s so preoccupied with hiding that thought that it takes Flynn a moment too long to notice the red around Lucy’s teary eyes, her defensive body language, and the way her shoulders are up and her body tight. His first instinct, to enfold her in his arms, hits him like a train, and it takes every fiber of Flynn’s already limited willpower to keep his hands at his sides and step aside. His lips twitch. He’s not sure if he should ask what’s wrong.

He shuts the door and turns to find Lucy standing just behind him, arms wrapped around herself. She looks hurt and lost, which sends off an involuntary spark of panic in the back of his head. 

(Flynn wonders sometimes if his protective instinct towards her is purely selfish. He’s never felt this way about anyone but his wife and daughter, and since that day in Sao Paolo, Lucy has been an ever-present promise that he might one day regain them. Of the many deeds that will one day send him to hell, he thinks that considering Lucy Preston nothing more than a tool was one of the greater follies of his life.)

So when he shuts the door and turns to find Lucy standing just behind him, arms wrapped around herself, looking hurt and lost, Flynn ignores the familiar spark of panic and focuses on the instinct to  _fix_.

“It’s late,” he observes. 

Her sad little chuckle breaks his heart. “Really, Flynn? That’s all?” He opens his mouth to answer, but Lucy puts up her hands. She draws a shuddering breath and says, “I need a favor.”

Flynn studies her for a long moment. She has no way of knowing that his mind is reviewing every possible favor she could ask, and considering whether there’s anything he would deny her. 

(Even before he begins, Flynn knows the answer. And it aches his soul to think that he must only feel this way because of what she can give him. It’s the only explanation, because the alternative is–)

He’s afraid to admit it even to himself, so he crosses his arms over his chest and says, “What’s wrong?”

He’d noticed she hadn’t been sleeping, of course–the dark circles are particularly visible on Lucy’s fair skin, and she’s been moving slower than even a non-soldier has a right to, but he hasn’t said anything, because it’s not his place, he’s just in it for himself, everyone knows that. So he’s not surprised to hear her confess that she hasn’t been sleeping. 

It’s what she says next that makes him choke. “I need to share a bed.”

Her eyes are large and plaintive, but Lucy Preston has never gone to a man’s room with unclear expectations. “ _Please._ ”

His motivations are impure, Flynn knows, and it seems appropriate that even protecting Lucy, protecting her sleep, is what will send him to hell. Flynn’s heart does a pleasant flip, and he feels sick over it.

“If that’s what you need,” he promises.

Although her face is lined with fatigue, Lucy smiles.

* * *

When he wakes early, she’s already gone. Flynn tries not to be disappointed, or to think about how well he slept with her beside him, or to wish she had stayed. For what he stands to gain, he owes her whatever selflessness he has left.

But then she comes back.

And he lets her in, as always. “More nightmares?”

Lucy sinks onto the bed, face tight with frustration, and looks up at him. “Tell me. Do they ever stop?”

“For me? No.” Flynn sits on the bed beside her. “But there are…ways to make it easier.” He senses suddenly that his eyes are dangerously soft, and clears his throat, looking away. “Besides, the weight of your sins is, I would imagine, considerably lighter than that of mine.” He smiles thinly. “You should ask Wyatt. As one of the  _good guys,_  he would know better.”

“Maybe,” Lucy says thoughtfully, and Flynn can feel her eyes on him, and he’s too warm, and he looks away. It’s a small bed, but he’s still surprised to wake in the wee hours to find Lucy’s small form glued to his back, their legs tangled together.

Much as Flynn wants to hate himself for thinking of her as a tool, it’s getting harder to convince himself that’s what this is. 

When he holds her hand, it’s not for the sake of the journal. He can’t imagine why she squeezes back.

* * *

He takes to rising earlier than he prefers– _preferred,_  because unbelievable as it is, handing Lucy her morning cup of coffee is worth losing those couple minutes of sleep. He sits in the chair and watches her rouse herself, and Lucy watches him back, and the bed is warm for a long time after.

* * *

“It’s two sugars, right?”

Flynn opens his eyes to see Lucy–who has awakened first, but is still here, somehow–holding out a cup, her smile sparkling. Flynn’s first thought is that he must be dreaming, or dead and in a heaven he doesn’t deserve. 

It’s four sugars, actually–having a small child taught him to appreciate sweet things–but Lucy looks so proud and pleased that all he can do is accept the steaming cup. She beams as he drinks it (and hides his wince at its bitterness under a smile). “Is it any good?” She looks nervous as she settles on the bed next to him. “I would say tell me if it’s not, but it’s my third try, so if it’s crap,  _don’t_  tell me.”

On an impulse, Flynn takes her hand. “It’s perfect.”

Her smile is soft. “I wanted to thank you. You didn’t have to–” she waves a hand. “Let me crash here every night.”

“Oh, I did.” Lucy frowns, and he flashes her a reassuring smile. “But I would have, anyway.”

He said it to make her smile, but Flynn knows in his heart that it’s true.

That night, with Lucy curled against him in their usual arrangement–her head under his chin, his arm protectively around her back, holding her close and warm under the blankets–his chest is light, and free of guilt. 

“I don’t deserve this,” he murmurs, trying to make himself believe it.

Lucy’s lips move against his collarbone, and Flynn’s heart stops. 

“Forget  _deserve._ ” She looks up, face soft, and Flynn drowns in her eyes, in her breath across his lips. “Forget time travel for a moment, and our past, and just…be here. With me.”

And when he finally kisses her, he does. He is. For her, that is.

He had believed his interest in her was professional. He’s never been so happy to be wrong.


End file.
